One Shot Collection
by damnitjane
Summary: Collection of One shots posted on my tumblr. None have anything to do with the other, all are different. NOW COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This will be updated with 'chapters', but are a collection of one-shot's I have made over the last few months. None have anything do to with each other, they are just one-shot fics. Thanks and enjoy!**

**Tell Me All About It**

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

Jane and Lisbon sat across from a wife whose husband would never come back through the door. It was a hard job, but one that Lisbon prided herself in using empathy for. She had a knack for sympathy when tragedy struck people's lives. Jane sat beside her, his attention placed solely on the now-widowed woman.

"How long have you two been married?" the widow asked, wiping her nose with a tissue. "Long?"

Lisbon's reaction must have been strong because the widow pointed to the ring on Jane's finger. The steel against his flesh gleaming in the afternoon sun floating in from the window, flooding the room in its light. Jane looked down at his ring and subconsciously toyed with it.

"Oh," he shook his head and smiled slightly. "We're not, uh, we're not married," he told her. "Not that far, yet."

"Oh," the widow said. "I'm sorry. I assumed—-"

"It's okay," Jane assured her, looking up and then at Lisbon, who sat there in silence.

Lisbon never really thought much on the ring. It was one of those 'it comes with the package' kind of deals. It was just something she didn't bother to think about. Jane never talked with her about it, either. She had seen him play with it many times, a nervous tic, she thought. The reason he still wore it was never discussed, and she left it go because she wanted him to tell her when he was ready.

"I'm so sorry," she apologized again to the both of them.

Lisbon watched as Jane smiled at the woman and waved it off. He looked down at the widow's finger and saw her wedding ring, and curiosity must have gotten the better of him.

"What are you going to do with yours now that your husband is gone?" He asked her, pointing to her diamond cut.

"Jane," Lisbon broke in. "Stop it."

The widow laughed sadly and shook her head. "It's okay, Agent Lisbon. Fair question, I suppose." She looked down at her ring and lifted her hand so it was in front of her, and the diamond gleamed in the bright sun.

"A ring is a sentimental object," she told him, putting her hand back down and shrugging. "It doesn't really matter if it's on my finger or put in a box and stored away, the sentiment will always be with it. My connection to my husband isn't in steel and stone, Mr. Jane, it's in here," she pointed to her heart. "That's where the love lives."

Shortly after that exchange, they finished up with the widow and left, heading back to the FBI headquarters to start investigating clues on this particular case.

"You all right?" Lisbon asked Jane, who was more silent than he usually was. "You're quiet."

"Just thinking," he told her and left it at that.

"Okay," she told him.

**X-X-X-X**

They got in late. They had a late supper and then went to bed, having to get up early the next morning to resume the case. Lisbon lay awake for a little while next to Jane. She thought he was acting strange all day, but when she'd ask him about it, he would shrug and move on. She fell asleep thinking of the widow, wedding rings and Jane.

It was a few hours later that she was startled awake by the bed trembling. She looked over at the clock on the bedside table, which read 4:02am. She rubbed her sleepy eyes and turned on her back.

"Jane?" she called out in the darkness. She could see his form sitting on the edge of the bed. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

Lisbon reached over and flipped the table lamp on and turned back to Jane, who was still sitting on the edge of the bed. Something was definitely up.

"Sorry I woke you," he told her. "I can't sleep."

"Jane," she said, getting out from under the covers and scooting across to sit next to him on the edge of the bed, her hand reaching out to touch his upper arm. "What's wrong? You've been acting weird all day. Spill it."

She looked down and could see that he had taken the ring off and was holding it up in front of him, moving it back and forth in his fingers. He tilted his head and sighed.

"You know," he started, his voice barely a whisper and his face half in shadow, "this ring has been apart of me since I married Angela."

"Jane," Lisbon said softly, "it's just a ring."

"That's the point," he answered, turning to her now. "I've kept this ring on because I thought it brought me closer to her…kept her memory alive within me."

He brought the ring down and placed it in his palm. "But I never thought how it would affect you."

"I don't care if you wear it or not, Jane. The ring doesn't make me love you less."

"I know that, but it's the fact I am holding on to something I am trying to move past with you," he explained. "You are the future for me, but how can I move on when I wear this ring that keeps taking me back? Angela isn't in this ring, Lisbon. She's in my thoughts…my memories, in my heart."

"It's sentimental to you, Jane," Lisbon told him, closing his hand over the ring with her free hand. "Keeps her close. I understand that, Patrick. I really do."

Jane hesitated, turning his head to look at Lisbon. He opened his mouth and closed it again.

"Come here," she told him, pressing her head into the crook of his neck. She could feel his head rest on top of hers. "Tell me about it?"

"She's gone," he finally said, "and this ring won't bring her back. I keep telling myself that it binds me to her, but she's gone, Lisbon. She's gone. She's not in the damn ring, and I have fooled myself all these years in thinking it gave me peace. It gave me reminders of things that made me feel guilty. I wear this out of guilt."

"Jane…"

"What am I going to do when I am ready to take that step with you? Reuse the ring I had with my wife who is long gone? What happens when I want to ask you to be my wife and I am recycling a ring I have kidded myself into thinking it brought me closer to her?"

Lisbon sighed. He was upset and rambling a little.

"What do you want to do, Jane? I am okay, either way," she told him. "I promise."

Jane got up from the bed (gently disengaging himself from Lisbon) and walked over to Lisbon's jewelry case. With one last look at the ring he wore on his hand for the last 14 years, he placed it in a felt-lined drawer and closed it. He closed the gap between him and Lisbon and sat down beside her once more.

"You know what this means?" he asked her, a small smile playing across his sad face.

"What?"

"I need another ring to take its place," he told her, his hand coming up to find her cheek as he guided her to him and kissed her softly.

They never did get back to sleep.


	2. Nice Day For A White Wedding

**Nice Day For A White Wedding**

** -x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x**

The stain-glass windows of the church filtered in different shades on the pews and walls of the small room, casting an otherworldly glow to the people sitting on either side of the aisle. The people who occupied the seats in the house of God were people they knew, loved and respected. The Rigsby's sat in the front with their children, Benjamin and Madeline. Beside them, Madeline Hightower and her two children sat quietly, no longer in need of hiding away from the world.

Jane looked around the room and smiled. It was decorated in red and white petals from Orchids, and white lace cloth hung across each side of the pews, draping down with a pinned-in-place orchid flower in the center of each dip. His eyes raked over each and every one of the guests, his happiness stretched across his face and in the tailor-made vest and suit he wore, a red rose sticking out from the breast pocket. He caught a glimpse of Virgil Minelli, his smile just as crooked as he remembered, sitting at the edge of the pew in the second row. His eyes glanced in front of him and made eye contact with Thomas Lisbon, who was sitting with his daughter, Annabeth, and his brother Jimmy. Thomas nodded at him, and he nodded back. All were dressed in suits and dresses made of the finest material. There was no cost he wouldn't pay.

The door at the end of the room opened, and everyone stood, their gazes falling to the entrance, waiting for the same thing Jane was. The familiar wedding march started playing, and Jane waited, his nervousness edged only by the thought of what they had overcome to be here now. His smile could have cracked his face as he stood there, hands at his sides, waiting for her.

Finally, after what seemed to Jane to be anxious minutes, she rounded the corner. Teresa Lisbon, her brother, Stanley, who was to give her away, started her walk toward becoming Mrs. Teresa Jane. Her white mermaid gown dress flared out at her waist, and there was a white orchid in her hair. Her mother's cross was glowing in the light of the church's stained glass. The world seemed to slow down for Jane. There was nobody in that room to him except for her. The way the veil slipped over her face, yet giving him access to her beautiful green eyes made him catch his breath. Time froze with each step closer to him. The bouquet had yellow orchids mixed with white, something Lisbon picked out because she said the yellow color reminded her of his blonde curls. She was always beautiful to him but seeing her walking toward him to become Teresa Jane was breathtaking. A dream he once shared with another that ended in tragedy. Here he was, sharing a dream with the woman who made him find happiness again and find beauty in tragedy.

She made it with Stanley to the altar, the tears already falling from her face as the crowd of people sat down, the room so quiet a pin could drop and they would all hear it.

"I give you away on behalf of our father," Stanley told her, taking her hand and helping her up the one step that lead her across from Jane. He kissed her cheek and went to sit down with his other brothers.

"You look so beautiful," Jane told her, reaching over to take her free hand. He exhaled an excited breath. "Stunning."

"And you look handsome," she replied through the tears still falling. "I missed the vests."

Everyone laughed, and the minister stepped to the podium in between them, smiling widely at the couple.

"Before we begin," he said, placing the bible on the podium in front of him. "You both have written a foreword?"

"We have," Jane answered.

He didn't need a piece of paper to read. He memorized all of it…he had been memorizing it for years, he knew. He could recall every single word he was going to say to her now, only back when he thought it, she wasn't about to become Mrs. Jane. He cleared his throat and breathed out a shaky breath. Flipping open her veil, he gazed into those deep green eyes and nearly got lost.

"Teresa," he finally started after a moment. "There was a moment of absolute clarity in my life after it took a bad turn. It was a moment that didn't surround itself with hazy smudges. It was the moment you shook my hand those years ago. There was so much hope, empathy and understanding in that moment. It was the moment I knew there was something special about you."

He stopped because his voice began to crack. Swallowing hard, he continued, his hand squeezing hers as she gazed lovingly at him.

"For years you were beside me, guiding me, trusting in me and loving me for what I was and who I am now," he choked out in an emotional burst. "I can't remember the last time I felt free, Teresa. I can't remember the last time I could wake up and smile so wide, breathe so clear and want to live my life. I had almost forgotten how it felt to be loved. You freed me."

"Jane," Lisbon whispered.

"I love you, Teresa. I am glad I am going to be leaving this church as your husband, and I am glad you chose me. For whatever reason that is, I promise to love you until I die, and even after that. If there is an afterlife, I will love you then, too."

There was silence as they stood looking at each other, smiles growing wide, tears flowing from the crowd and Minelli whistling in approval. Lisbon reached up to wipe her eyes as the minister turned to her.

"And you?"

Lisbon sniffled and cleared the thickness in her throat. She, too, didn't need a paper to say what she had to say. She knew it by heart. The many times they had talked about it together was almost like recalling a favorite childhood memory: easy and unforgettable.

"Jane," she started. "I remember how difficult you were," said Lisbon, getting chuckles from the people who knew that best. "You were broken, but you still partly worked. You were … _are_ a generous, kind, loving and incredible man. You came through so much, and you came out a better man. I am a better person for knowing you. You taught me the value of trust and you were always there. No questions asked. If I needed you, you were here for me."

She smiled a watery smile at the memory of the trust fall, the crate where he told her he'd always save her, the times he had indeed saved her…

"You saved me from being lonely," she said. "You saved me from walking this world only caring about my job. You showed me what it is to be loved and you gave your love to me. You accepted the fact that you deserved love, and you let me be the one who gave it to you. Patrick, there is nobody else I could imagine standing here with, today. I couldn't imagine another last name attached to me. I love you, Patrick, and I am so happy to leave with you beside me in my life."

The pews lit up with applause and whistles, and Jane could hear her brothers cry out, 'Yeah, Reese!". He would cherish those sounds forever. He would always see Lisbon in her dress coming toward him to wear his ring, take his name and be his wife forever. If anything became of tragedy, it was the beauty of giving him Lisbon. Full circle seemed to suit them just fine, and he accepted it.

"Lovely," the minister said. "Now, to make this reunion official…"

He opened the bible and waited for the noise in the room to quiet down before starting the binding ceremony. Once he felt he could go on, he began the Rite of Marriage. He looked at Jane first.

Jane reached into his vest pocket and pulled out the wedding ring he got her, sliding it on her finger as he waited for the Minister to continue.

"Repeat after me: _'Teresa, I give this ring as a symbol of my love and fidelity'_".

"Teresa, I give this ring as a symbol of my love and fidelity," Jane repeated, staring intently into Lisbon's eyes.

"Do you, Patrick, take Teresa to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?"

"I do."

Lisbon smiled and shakily placed the wedding band on Jane's finger that she had held in her palm that held her bouquet.

"Teresa, repeat after me: _'Patrick, I give this ring as a symbol of my love and fidelity'_".

"Patrick, I give this ring as a symbol of my love and fidelity," Lisbon said, her hands shaking. Jane squeezed her fingers with his to calm her.

"And, do you, Teresa, take Patrick to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?" He asked Lisbon.

"Yes, I do."

"You have declared your consent before the Church. May the Lord in his goodness strengthen your consent and fill you both with his blessings. What God has joined, men must not divide. Amen," the Minister concluded. "You may kiss the bride."

Jane reached over and pulled Lisbon close to his body, bringing his hand up to cup her chin as he kissed her. He nearly forgot people were watching them until Jimmy yelled out, "Hey! Save some for later!" They burst out laughing and had to separate.

"Ready, Mrs. Jane?" Jane asked her, holding out his arm for her.

"Yes, I think I am, Mr. Jane," she replied, taking his arm and running down the aisle as the crowd in the pews threw rice and confetti around them as they hurried out into the bright sunshine of the church and into their joined lives as Mr. and Mrs. Patrick Jane.


	3. Unconsciously Confessing

The doctor tapped the heart rate monitor with her pen and looked at Jane through horn-rimmed glasses. The smell of antiseptic and death made him wince, but he wasn't noticing his stomach hurting in nervousness. He focused on the bed, his hand extending to hold onto the warm, soft hand lingering off the side of the cot.

"She's stable," the doctor told him, shaking the pen in the air. "We've got her pretty comfortable, but the Taser burn may bother her when she wakes up," she explained. "We'll give her something for that."

Jane nodded his head but did not look away from Lisbon. The I.V sticking out of her hand made his heart drop. He didn't even say anything as the doctor left the room, the billowing silence flowing into the room, the only sound being the monotonous beeping of Lisbon's machines.

He squeezed Lisbon's fingers and reached a hand up to her hair. He was glad he had gotten most of Partridge's blood off her face before the ambulance. He didn't want that to get back to Lisbon when she woke up, at least, not unless it came from him. It was a little while before they even told her she was fine, other than the burn, and his exhale of relief was so overwhelming that he collapsed into the waiting room chair. The team had wanted to come see her, but Bertram didn't think it was necessary, and they had a case to work. He had called them every hour or two with updates.

"Lisbon, I'm sorry," he whispered, pushing a strand of hair away from her face. "It's my fault. I shouldn't have upset you."

He knew she was deep in slumber, but he wanted her to know. Rather, he needed her to know how sorry he was for complicating an already complicated matter. He remembered driving straight through when they told him about the distress call from Lisbon's location. He had torn through the front door, tearing down the hallways and through the rooms screaming out her name. It was the last room down the hall that he ran into, seeing Lisbon's lifeless body on the pinstripe mattress, sprawled out as the paramedics worked to try to figure out what was going on. Oh, how he had thought the worst. He had pushed a paramedic aside to kneel beside her, his hand reaching out to caress her cold cheek. It brought him back to some painful memories he didn't want to relive.

Jane shook his head and caressed the skin at her hand with his thumb. He felt better knowing she was only unconscious, but he still didn't feel completely relieved.

"What were you doing, Lisbon?" his voice cracked despite his attempt to control it. "You could have been killed! Why didn't you wait?"

There were no solid answers. At least, none that he would press her for. He had loved her a while, now, but there were some things he just couldn't handle now. His feelings, being completely honest, were one of them. Loving her was wrong. Loving her was dangerous. Not for him. He didn't give a damn about himself. It was dangerous for her. Keeping his love inside kept her safe. That's what he planned to keep telling himself. But now there was nobody around, and Lisbon was out like a light. Maybe now was the time to set it free until he could work up the strength and courage to tell her while her eyes were open and she was coherent in his expressed feelings.

"You know..." he started, watching her chest heave in small breaths under the hospital gown she wore. "I think admitting this to you when you can actually hear these words is far too dangerous for you. I think this is what's best..."

The heart monitor jumped and beeped at that moment, and then settled down as Jane's gaze fell back to a peaceful looking Lisbon. It had done that since he had sat there, which was all morning long, but he could not say what time it now was. His fingers grazed the freckled skin of her arm as he rubbed gently. He took a deep inhale, followed by an even deeper exhale.

"I didn't want to tell you this because I was afraid this is how it would end," he continued. "It almost ended either way, tonight, and I don't want to go into the future knowing I never said what I needed to say."

He pulled his seat closer to her bed and laid his chin on his hands that were folded against her pink blanket, next to her hip. He watched the pulse rate and blood pressure gauge fluctuate for a few minutes, deciding if he wanted to go on. After watching her twitch slightly in her sleep, he decided it was too late to turn back.

"I love you, Teresa," he said quietly, the words tasting like freedom. "You're a hell of a woman. I...I...spent so many years playing avenger, but there was always a moral compass somewhere along the way making sure I didn't do anything stupid." He licked his lips and exhaled sharply. "I didn't really believe there were any compassionate people left in my life. I've tottered through it, been let down."

He picked up her hand and placed it in his, closing his eyes and focusing just on the warmth against his skin. He was in a fragile state, and the closeness of her comforted him. It made him feel as if nothing mattered anymore. Only her.

"You made me want to be a better person, Teresa. I have been many things that I wouldn't want to be linked with, but you ... you made a man who was cocky and self-centered humble. When I was a broken down toy, you fixed me good as new."

It was true. A once broken man, he had been taken in, fixed and cleaned up, and given love and attention by a substitute family. The CBI team had become that for him, and Teresa had become someone he could rely on, both professionally and publicly. It was here that the love had grown between them. He had felt it before he even realized what it was. He knew as the years went by that the reason he stuck around when the frustrations of Red John beat him down was because of the CBI team. Because of Teresa. Loving her was easy and free. Natural. Telling her was difficult and hidden within himself for his own selfish reasons. He wanted her to himself, and if he let her know his deepest desires, he knew she'd get snatched away, just as Angela had. Jane couldn't let that happen. It was all too risky.

"I owe you my life," he told her, chuckling at how that sounded. "It sounds cliche, Teresa, but it's true. Where would I be without you? How much you have sacrificed for me?"

He lifted his head from his hands and pulled the blanket up a little bit, causing a stir to Lisbon's body. He saw her move slightly, almost as if she were restless in her sleep. He sat back in the chair, his hand still in hers, and sighed.

"One day," he promised. "I am going to tell you how much you mean to me. When all this is over and done and we are the last ones standing against Red John, I am going to tell you exactly how I feel. Because I love you, Teresa, and that's never going to change. It's selfish of me, I know. I am a selfish man."

He watched as her eyes started to move rapidly under her eyelids, her heart rate going up and her breathing becoming erratic. He scooted to the edge of the chair and reached up to touch her hair just as she gasped suddenly and sat bolt upright in the bed.

For right now, a declaration of love to an unconscious recipient would have to do.

One day, though...

One day, he would lay it all out on the line to her. He was positive of that.


	4. The Nine Month Flu

**The Nine Month Flu**

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

Lisbon watched Jane take a bit of closed-case pizza and her face whitened. Sliding her own plate away from her, she fought to overcome the wave of nausea that enveloped her.

"Lisbon," Jane said. "Lisbon, you look peaked. Are you all right?"

She turned to look at him, but had to abruptly look away as he shoved another bite in his mouth. She had been having waves of nausea for several days, only waning when she vomited into the toilet. She at first thought it might be the flu that was going around the FBI, but she wasn't feeling any other symptoms. If it was the flu, it wasn't the normal kind. She had gone to the doctor, but it wasn't the flu. It wasn't something that would go away and she wouldn't have to deal with it. No. It was a 9 month-long kind of flu.

"I…I don't feel too good," she told him, trying desperately to hold down the one bite of pizza she did manage. "I think it might be the flu everyone had. My turn, I guess."

She didn't want to tell him here. She planned on telling him over dinner they had planned on the weekend, but she didn't know if she could make the dinner. She couldn't even look at a slice of pizza without hurling, these days.

He sat the greasy pizza on his plate and reached over to feel her forehead. He flipped his hand over and felt it again, and then brought his hand down and shook his head.

"You don't have a fever," he assured her. "What's wrong? Do you have body aches? Headache?"

"No," she told him, struggling not to get up and run to the bathroom. "Just nauseated."

He looked at her peculiarly, and she was starting to think there was a face-eating infection the way he was gazing at her.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?" She snapped, sudden anger rising at the back of her throat.

He leaned toward her and hesitated. "It's just…."

He trailed off and cocked his head, almost in revelation. She was getting upset. She wasn't feeling well, and she wasn't going to sit here longer. If she did, he'd be eating vomit topped pizza.

"Jane, I am about to get sick," she said, squeezing her eyes closed. "You better talk fast. It's just what?"

"When Angela was pregnant with Charlotte, this was one of the first signs," he told her quietly. "She'd fight nausea for hours, every day, and she couldn't even watch me eat a sandwich without getting sick."

"What are you saying, Jane?"

"Are you pregnant?" He reached out for her hand. "You can tell me, Teresa."

What was the use in lying? She was going to tell him anyway. She just wished it wasn't in the midst of a busy FBI bullpen. She opened her eyes and stared at him, her green eyes boring into his. He waited patiently as she cleared her throat, and hoped to hell she wouldn't throw up on him when she opened her mouth.

"Yeah," she said, fighting a wave of pain in her stomach. "Yeah, a few weeks."

She watched his face light up in surprise and pride, leaning forward to kiss her on the forehead. He'd have hugged her, but he knew he shouldn't squeeze her, now.

"I love you," he told her, moving a hand down to her still-flat tummy. "And, you, too," he added.

"Jane…" Lisbon started to say.

She was interrupted by Jane, who stood up, cupped his hands over his mouth and whistled to get everyone's attention. Abbott, Fischer, Wylie and Cho stopped eating, and turned to them, the talk dying down.

"I'm gonna be a daddy," Jane said proudly, putting a hand on Lisbon's shoulder.

"Hey! Congrats," Abbott said, smiling from ear to ear. "I take a little responsibility for that, you know. I steered that ship long before you did."

Fischer smiled and shook her head. She didn't say anything, but Lisbon could see the small gleam in her eye.

"How'd that happen?!" Cho asked.

Abbott and Fischer laughed as Jane shook his head in amusement. Good ole' clueless Cho.

Wylie turned in his seat, a pizza slice sticking out from his mouth and gave Jane the thumbs up.

"You're going to be awesome parents," he told them.

Lisbon's eyes zeroed in on the slice of pizza he was nibbling on. She watched a grease trail slide down his hand. That did it. Without warning, she stood and ran to the bathroom, holding her mouth in hopes she would make it.

"That's what you have to look forward to for a while," Abbott told him. "And dirty diaper duty."

Jane smiled so wide, his face nearly cracked. He was going to be a daddy, again. This time, he planned on doing it right. Being there for her and the baby. He learned his lesson years ago: something so precious should never be taken for granted. And he wouldn't. He promised himself, his past, and now his future.


	5. Loved You All Along

**All Along**

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

Both bodies hit the mattress in sweaty exhaustion. The silk sheets still slick from the activity between them, Jane brought up the cover around them and felt Lisbon's hair on his chest, and her hand across his broad torso, drawing lazy circles at his ribs with her fingertips.

"Jesus," Lisbon murmured, burrowing closer to Jane as she fought the sticking of the sheets on her skin.

She felt his arm loop around her shoulders and felt him chuckle, the sound echoing through his chest. Both were still sopping wet with the heat of want, and there was a slight shiver from Lisbon, still coming down from the high.

"Yeah," he laughed, kissing the top of her head. "You say that a lot."

Truth was, she probably did. He knew how to work the right places, and she never had it so good as she did now.

"So do you," she replied, turning her head to kiss him on the chin.

"Touche," he told her, his hand sliding down her spine and back up in a lazy track. "I admit it."

She was silent for a few moments. She often wondered how the hell they got here from where they were at the beginning. How was she so lucky to have him here in her bed? How did he pick her? How did he fall in love with someone who was only doing her job the day he walked in? Fate? Chance? Coincidence? How did a tragedy translate to love for him?

"You're awfully silent, Teresa," he whispered finally. "What are you thinking about?"

She was trying to think, but his hands brushed against the naked flesh of her hip under the covers and she nearly lost her train of thought. Finally, she turned and moved her hand under her chin on his chest and stared up at him. His blonde curls were soaked with perspiration, and they fell in a small curl onto his forehead. His eyes were soft, and he brought his other hand to the back of her neck and gave it a squeeze. She trapped her bottom lip between her teeth and exhaled.

"Am I allowed to know what you're thinking?" he asked her.

"Jane," she started, scratching his chest with her fingernails in a subconscious pattern. "When did you know you loved me?"

She watched his face turn from curiosity to thoughtfulness. He looked up at the ceiling and smiled, shaking his head in an amused gesture.

"I'm serious, Jane," she told him, lifting her hand to his chin and pulling his face down so she could read it. "This is a serious question."

"I know it is," he replied, his voice just a whisper in the already silent room. "I intend to answer it, but you should know that whatever you want from me, I will give it to you, if I can."

"What do you mean?"

"You've obviously been thinking about this for a while. You can always ask me anything, and I will tell you the truth, Teresa. I promise you," he told her, pressing his lips lightly to hers.

"I know," she said against his lips. "I'm sorry."

"Now, about your question," he said, watching as Lisbon burrowed back onto his chest, laying there listening to his heartbeat. He cleared his throat and licked his lips before continuing. "Teresa, when I walked into that precinct, you were the only one willing to listen to me. I was shepherded from person-to-person, and you were the only one willing to give me the time of day."

"But Minelli—"

"Minelli gave me a chance because you gave me a chance," he interrupted. "You became my friend, but also, in a weird sort of way, my savior. Meeting you was the best thing that could have happened under the circumstances."

She listened but didn't reply. She knew he had to get it out, because it dawned on her that not only had she thought about this, but he had, too. He had to get to this, and she lie silently in perpetual stillness, and let him continue.

"Then, over the years, you became my best friend. You always tried to steer me right, even when I wasn't thinking straight. You didn't give up on me, Teresa, like so many others did. When Red John was within grasp, you gripped me and made me stay sane."

"Jane—-"

"I left you for 6 months, left you for 2 years, and you waited, Teresa. You waited for me, even when I didn't deserve it. I am where I am because of you."

Lisbon didn't reply, she only let a single, solitary tear streak down her cheek and land in a fat puddle on his chest. He hadn't told her these words, before. The airplane declaration had been honest and open, but it hadn't been about the past. It was all for the future. His words now engulfed her heart and made her feel amazing.

"Besides," he continued, his rant picking up pace. "You were and are kind and generous and beautiful. You made me want to be a better human being. God knows where I'd be if you didn't step in my life."

He raised himself into a sitting position, his back leaning against the headboard. He brought her with him, the cover around them falling to the end of the bed. His hands slid up the sides of her naked body and cupped her face in his hands.

"I knew I loved you from the moment I saw you, Teresa Lisbon. I have weeded out the worst people on the planet, have observed my fair share of dirty doers, but you, Teresa, were a saint from the time I met you." He reached his lips to the tears falling from her eyes now and kissed them away, the salty water making his lips tingle. "So if you're asking me what the exact moment I fell for you was, it was when you shook my hand all those years ago. I fell in love with you as a friend, a best friend, a partner and a lover."

Lisbon couldn't help the tears. Instead, she leaned against his chest and heard his heart hammering in his chest. The heart that beat only for her. The heart that loved her for a very long time. The heart that only belonged to her.


	6. Bad Intentions

**Bad Intentions**

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

There was a fire burning in her eyes the moment the door closed behind her. Pressing her body to his, she guided Jane backward until his knees gave out and he plopped onto the soft bed behind him. Her body fell onto his and she lifted herself into a sitting position on his lap.

"This is new," he mused, reaching up to move her loose hair behind her ear. "Can't say I don't like it."

"Me taking control is new?" she shot back playfully, her hands running the length of his naked chest.

"Touche," he answered.

Lisbon ascended back up his body and lifted one of his hands above his head, placing it flush against the slatted headboard behind him. Before he could answer or protest, she bent down and her fiery mouth was on his; breathing in everything he gave her, she moaned wildly as Jane's loose hand came to rest on her cheek, pressing her mouth even closer.

"What has gotten into you, tonight?" Jane asked as they both panted and gasped for pure air. "I'm not complaining but…" he trailed off.

"Just trying to spice things up a little," she replied.

Jane watched as she took her free hand and reached down to her belt on her pants. He heard the pop of a closure opening and then the flash of steel clambering together as the wicked smile unfurled across her soft, delicate face.

"Ah, Lisbon," he cracked, "just what do you intend to do with those?"

Lisbon chuckled softly as she leaned over him and latched her handcuffs under the slat so that the loops were free and secure so he couldn't free himself, the middle of the cuffs resting on one of the nails that held the headboard in place so the cuffs wouldn't slide. She brought his free hand up to the next slat. Jane watched her as she took the cuffs and clicked each around his wrists so that his arms were spread eagle against the board with no way to lower them.

"I have a duty to uphold the law," she told him, resting her hands back on his bare chest. "And you've been very, very naughty."

"Really?" Jane smirked. "And what did I do that was so bad?"

"It's not what you did, Patrick," she told him. "It's what you're going to do."

Jane pulled down to test the strength of the handcuffs: really strong. He watched as Lisbon's hands slid to his belt, and he could feel her pull on his zipper.

"Uh," he hesitated, not really wanting to interrupt her. "You have a key for these, right?"

She nodded.

"If you are a good boy," she said, pulling at his pants so they loosely hung from his hips, "I will let you go."

"How will I know if I was a good boy or not?"

"You'll know," she smirked.

Lisbon backed up off the bed and pulled her shirt over her head, followed by her pants. Climbing back on top of Jane, she gave the handcuffs one more tug before reaching over and turning out the light on the nightstand.

Only the sound of deep panting, the handcuffs banging against the headboard and the flashing of the steel was left in the darkness.


	7. In Da Club

**In Da Club**

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

The smoke surrounded her, swirling and swinging in the large, dimly lit room at Bare Skin Strip Club in downtown Austin. She motioned for Cho to surround the exit they had just come through, and pointed at another exit to her left, and repeated her gesture to Abbott.

Trying to avoid coughing on the stale smell of cigars, old money and new sweat, Lisbon lifted her Glock and swung herself forward. The couches in the room were filled with people, and she decided it was better to clear the room out. She motioned once more to Cho, who opened the door, filtering the sunlight inside.

"Everyone who doesn't want to be arrested tonight, leave now," she yelled, her voice did not quite reach the large stage set in the front of the room. "Whoever is left will be going to jail for obstructing justice. Go!"

Quickly, the room emptied out, the men filing to the exit grumbling about their dollar bills going to waste. On the couch farthest from them, Lisbon could just make out two men still sitting there, one with signature blond curls protruding from the back of the couch.

She sighed heavily and motioned for Abbott and Cho to stay back. Lisbon inched closer to the couch, her gun still raised and her heart hammering in her chest. She was a few steps from the couch when Jane suddenly popped up and turned to her, a wide smile jutting across his face.

"Teresa," he slurred, waving his hand in hello. "I … I think you know this guy!" Jane pointed to the balding man beside him, who was seemingly asleep.

"Jane, what the hell are you doing?!" she asked, lowering her gun and then deciding to holster it. "That's a suspect!"

Jane giggled and then nodded his head. "Yeah!"

"You have done some pretty low things before," she told him, crossing her arms, "but this is the lowest!"

"Nuh-uh! I … are you mad at me, Teresa?" he gasped, pointing at the drunk, sleeping suspect. "Look! I got him! I … is he dead?" Jane asked, poking the suspect in the head. "Am I going to jail, Teresa?!"

"Yes, I am pissed!" she yelled. "I thought you were dead, Jane! Instead, I find you here, with the suspect, drunk!" she looked around the room, and her eyes fell on the stage, where a dancer had been performing. "In a strip club no less!"

"Uh," he said, following her gaze. "Did you wanna dance up there? I … I … I won't be mad. You can do that thing from last night up there!"

Jane mimicked with his shoulders and head a small dance she had done for him in the bedroom the night before.

"Jane," she muttered, pressing her thumb and forefinger to the bridge of her nose. "If you don't get up and follow me now, you won't see anything from last night again … ever."

She heard him gasp loudly in horror. There was a small smile playing on her face, but she had to keep up a stern face in this serious situation.

"I'm going to jail! I knew it! I killed him! Oh, my god, Teresa!"

He stood, swayed on his feet, and fell over the suspect beside him, the tape recorder in his jacket pocket falling onto the cushion beside him. Lisbon reached down and scooped up the tape recorder that no doubt had the passed out suspect's confession on it.

"Oops," he said, giggling. "I'm too drunk!"

Lisbon sighed.

"I'll take you home."

"With you?"

"Yeah, with me."

He smiled at her and stood on his feet, swaying over to her. She placed a hand around his waist and led him back through the room. It brought back memories of another time he got drunk and she had helped him walk.

This time, she knew what would sober him up.


	8. The New Kid

He stepped on the gas and punched through the intersection, the car squeaking in protest as he rolled on. Beside him, Teresa was breathing fast and hard, her hands on her swollen belly. He glanced over and placed a soothing hand on her shoulder before glancing back at the road in front of him.

"Hold on, Teresa," he told her, racing through a green light and passing a slow car in front of him. "It's just up the block."

"You…can…slow…_down!_" she gasped out between strangled breaths. "I want to live to see my baby!"

Jane took his foot off the pedal and slowed nearly to the speed limit. He had called ahead, and they were expecting them, but the amount of pain she was in was too much for him to bear. He had to get her there quickly. He knew, however, that she was right. He had to stop panicking, slow down, and take things easy. He had a child to think about, too.

"I'm sorry, love," he told her, stroking her arm as she cried out.

"Shut up and drive," she commanded.

"Okay."

He knew it was the pain talking. He turned right into a long, circular loop and up to the emergency entrance, where a nurse with a wheelchair was waiting for them. He double-parked, ran around to the passenger side of the car and opened it, helping her into the chair.

"I'll take her inside and get her hooked up," the young nurse said. "You can pull into the parking garage and tell them who you are at the desk inside. They'll give you the floor."

Without waiting for a reply, he watched as the nurse turned and wheeled her through the double doors and disappeared. He parked the car a few minutes later and jogged through the doors, walking up to the large oak desk. He told the nurse stationed there who he was, and she pointed to a row of elevators at the end of the hall.

"Maternity ward is on the sixth floor," the woman told him. "They should get you ready."

He didn't bother to thank them. Instead, he took off down the hall and pressed the UP button on the nearest elevator. When one finally came down, he leapt inside and slammed his palm on the sixth-floor call button.

"Come on! Come on!" he chanted impatiently.

Once the elevator finally stopped on his floor and the doors opened, he flew out of them and made a beeline for the receptionist desk. Two nurses were standing, writing in folders when he asked them about Teresa.

"My wife! She was brought up here? Teresa Jane?" he puffed out.

"Yes, Mr. Jane. She's in room four. Right down this hallway, to your left. They have her ready for the doctor to come in," the older of the two told him. "Go right in."

He mumbled something that could be considered thanks and trotted down the hall, pausing in front of the wide oak door. Inside, he could hear her labored breathing, followed by moans as if she were in agony. His heart hurt for her. He walked inside the door and watched as a nurse flipped her on her side. Teresa's hand gripped tightly to the steel rail, and Jane could see that they had gotten her into a hospital gown, and they had hooked up her up to a heart rate machine, blood pressure machine and an intravenous. The beeping of the machines was almost drowned out by the agonizing sounds coming from Teresa, along with the heavy, pushed-out breathing from her contractions. He hoped the Lamaze was working.

"Are you the husband?" the nurse who flipped her over asked. "The doctor will be in soon. You can talk to her and help her manage her pain."

She exited the room, and Jane walked around the bed so he could see her better. She was sweaty and her face was contorted in discomfort. He reached and covered her hand with his, pushing a sweaty clump of hair from her cheek.

"It hurts," she whispered through gritted teeth. "I can't take the pain. They won't give me something for it."

"Shhh," he soothed. "It's going to be okay. They will do something for the pain, Teresa."

"Jane," she said, her voice changing an octave as a contraction waved over her. "Do something to get my mind off the pain. Please," she begged.

It was something he once told her he had done for Angela when she was in labor. He told her of the days in the Carnie circuit, before he met her. It had eased her pain. Or, at least, she had said it had. Jane looked around and pulled the chair that was sitting near the window up, his face now level with hers as she lay in the bed. He rubbed the tape that held her I.V. into her vein. He didn't really know what she wanted to hear, so he thought of the first thing that came to his mind. He cleared his throat and looked around the pale colored room before gazing back at her as she moaned in another wave of pain. He pushed his free hand through his own sweaty curls and sat forward so that her face was inches from his own.

"Okay," he told her, rubbing his thumb over the spot where her I.V poked through her skin. "Teresa, look at me."

She looked at him as her breathing quickened with another sharp contraction.

"Good," he smiled at her. "When I count down from five, I want to close yours eyes and breath as deep as you can. Can you do that?"

She didn't answer. Instead, she nodded her head and pressed her face into the pillow to keep from crying out as another big contraction swept through her. Her swollen belly popped out from under the blanket around her, and Jane reached over to cover it back up.

"When you close your eyes, Teresa, you will mentally scan your entire body. When you get to the part of you that is the source of your pain, I want you imagine it's liquid, and you are pouring it out of your body."

She exhaled sharply and turned her face up to him, her face drenched in sweat, and her hair matting to her face.

"Five… four… three… two… one," he counted down, watching as she closed her eyes after he finished. "Imagine the pain flowing out of you, Teresa. Imagine the labor pains diminishing, getting smaller and smaller…"

He watched as she breathed deeply. She clenched her eyes shut, and he knew she was feeling the source of pain.

"Can you feel it leave your body, Teresa?" he whispered softly.

"Yes," she squeezed the rail for a few seconds before opening her eyes again. "The pain is not as bad."

"That's good. Do that when the pain becomes unbearable," Jane said.

"Thank you, Patrick," she told him. "For easing the pain. I love you."

"I love you more, Teresa," he told her. "I'd do anything for you. Even take your pain, if I could," he replied softly, gazing down at her lovingly.

"Five... four... three... two... one..." he repeated over and over. "And pour out the pain, Teresa. Good Girl."

He watched as the hours ticked by, each moan in pain or squeeze of his hand causing her to close her eyes. He would repeat the exercise softly until her moans were just slight undertones, sounding more like humming than agony. He had gotten up several times to give her ice to chew, and several times to rub her back when even the exercises didn't quell the pain.

The doctor had been in several times, but she still wasn't dilated enough to push. The doctor had also decided against using an epidural for the pain because the baby's heart rate was too high to risk it. She'd have to fight through the pain on her own. But she was strong. The doctor came back in an hour later, clipboard in hand. The last time he had come, she was six centimeters. He wanted her another two before he'd start the hard labor with her.

"Mrs. Jane," the doctor greeted her, looking at her vitals. "How are you feeling? We're going to check your dilation again," He told her, putting his clipboard down on the food service tray attached to the bed and reaching down under the edge of the bed. He pulled up the two stirrups one either side.

"Can you turn yourself to lie straight and place your feet in the stirrups," he said, reaching over to uncover her so her legs were free. "They'll be cold, again."

She did so. Jane watched as the doctor lifted her gown a little, placed a glove on his hand and worked under it. Teresa gasped and shivered at the sensation.

"Cold finger, sorry," he told her. "Looks like you are about eight centimeters dilated," he informed her as a nurse came in to aid. "Okay, she's ready to push."

"Now?" Jane asked, getting to his feet. "It's only been six hours!"

"Yes," he told him. "Some women take hours, some women take minutes and some take days."

He took the glove off and threw it in the waste can next to the bed. The nurse came around and gave Jane some blue scrubs to put on.

"You can put these on," she told him. "You're going to be a new daddy soon enough." She flashed him a smile and went back to Lisbon, who was dealing with contractions every few minutes, now.

"Again," he whispered quietly.

He put on the blue scrubs. They reminded him of that time they had tricked someone into thinking they were going to harvest his organs. He chuckled slightly at the memory. Jane took hold of Lisbon's hand, and she squeezed it so tight it was turning white.

"Okay," the doctor said, bringing a rolling stool over and sitting between Teresa's open legs. "This is the hard part. When I tell you, Teresa, I want you to push. Push as hard as you can and hold that for three seconds, okay?"

The nurse came to the other side of the bed and held her other hand and wiped her sweaty face with a cool cloth. "You'll be fine," she told her.

"Teresa, can you push for me?" he asked.

She brought her back off the bed and pushed as hard as she could. The only way she could describe it was that she was felt like she was taking a very hard, painful bowel movement. The pressure was almost like reverse vacuüm.

"Good," the doctor told her. "And hold that push for three, two, one…"

She pushed until he got to one and then relaxed, collapsing back on the pillows in exhaustion. Jane brought his free hand to curve under hers that was firmly grasping his. She turned to him and shook her head.

"You can do it, Teresa," he whispered. "I know you can. You're strong. Remember! Like liquid pouring out of you, let the pain flow free."

"I'll try," she croaked.

"Five… four… three… two… one…" Jane repeated softly. "Let it go, Teresa. You're almost there…"

She closed her eyes and Jane could see she was trying to once again reduce the pain using his method. Her eyes squeezed tightly, and then she breathed out a loud exhale.

The doctor asked her to push once more, and she did, holding it for the three seconds. She felt herself expand wide open down there. It felt as if she were pushing a watermelon out of a keyhole. She felt wet under her on the bed but didn't think much of it.

"I can see the head," the doctor called out. "It's crowning. Can you give me one last push, Teresa? Just one big push!"

"One more, love," Jane encouraged her. "One more and you are done, okay?"

Lisbon pushed one more time, putting all her strength and effort into the pushing. With one swift, hard push, she could hear the soft crying of a newborn baby. She collapsed back on the pillow once more as the nurse and doctor were cleaning up the baby and placing it in a white blanket.

"It's a boy, Mrs. Jane! Congratulations! To both of you," he told them.

He stood and walked around to hand the small newborn to her. She cuddled him to her chest and kissed his still slimy forehead. He had a bit of blonde hair on the top of his head, and his eyes were deep emerald-green. He had a good set of lungs as he cried and cried before finally settling down.

"Look at him, Jane," she looked up at him and smiled. "He has your hair."

"And your eyes," Jane pointed out, reaching his finger out for the baby to wrap his little hand around. "He's perfect."

"I'll leave you two alone for a few minutes. The nursery will be around to take the baby. You did good, Teresa," he told her, exiting the room with the nurse right behind him.

Teresa couldn't help but stare at Jane in awe. The tears that struck down his face and the smile that could have cracked his face made her speechless. The love and affection he already had for this tiny baby was clear. She knew it was a second chance at it for him. The world to Patrick Jane was lying in his wife's arms. His son with Teresa Lisbon was wrapping his hand around his finger, and the world stopped for him…stopped for her.

"Can I hold him?" Jane asked, bending down to kiss her on the forehead. "Please?"

"He's half yours," she laughed, finally free of the excessive pain.

She lifted the baby into Jane's arms. He snuggled him close and pressed his forefinger and index finger in gentle waves over the babies blonde tufts of hair. He cooed as Jane bounced him in his arms.

"You are so small," he told the baby. "Daddy has you."

The baby in the blanket gurgled and lifted a small, delicate hand up. Jane reached his lips down and took a few nibbles, feeling the baby's small fingers against his lips. He turned to his wife and tapped the baby on the bottom lightly to soothe him.

"What are we going to name our son?" he asked Teresa. He liked that term…_our son_.

She thought for a second before she stretched her hands out for their son. She had thought of names for the last few months, but none jumped out at her. But, after today, she thought she knew the perfect name for the baby boy the belonged to them…made them whole…

"How about Samuel?" she asked, kissing the baby on the head. "Sam for short?"

"Samuel?" he asked, his eyebrows going up.

"Yes," she confirmed. "It was my dad's name. I think it is perfect for him. What do you think?"

"I love it," he said. "It's a fine name, Teresa. I love you and your mom so much, Sam. So very much."

He bent down to kiss her on the lips and the baby on the forehead. The coo of the baby swelled his heart. He was the luckiest man around. Married to the finest woman he has known in this new life of his and daddy to their son. He was a parent again, and the power of that flowed within him. Beauty had come from tragedy and he was given a second chance to live. He was going to live for Teresa and baby Sam.

"Get some rest," he told her. "I'll let the team know you're okay."

The nursery came to take baby Sam a few minutes later, and Jane slipped out of the blue scrubs and went to phone the team. Turns out, he didn't have to. As soon as he stepped outside the room, there were all the people he held close in this special moment: Cho, Wylie, Abbott and Fischer. They were sitting in the waiting room for a while, it seemed.

"Congratulations, pop," Abbott smiled, shaking Jane's hand and pulling him in a hug. "Glad everything is fine."

"Thanks, man," he said, hugging him back.

Abbott let him go, and he turned to Cho. Cho stood there stoically but then a wide smile burst across his face.

"I never thought this would ever happen," he admitted. "Congrats, man. A baby! Good God! It's kind of weird…you and boss…ball and chain and now a little poop machine."

Jane laughed and shook his head. "No business like Cho business."

Fischer and Wylie congratulated him warmly and they were let in to see Teresa (who was decent, but still sweaty from pushing). She was surprised to see them, but happy. She accepted their thanks. She didn't see Jane with them.

"Where's Jane?" she asked, looking around the room.

"I think the new proud daddy went to the nursery to see the baby," Abbott suggested. "Proud papa's do that."

He was right, of course. Jane was up against the clear glass of the nursery, his gaze on baby Sam. He watched as the baby slept peacefully, his little chest rising and falling rapidly. His gaze fell on the name tag on the bassinet: JANE. It had been over a decade since those words were associated with a child. He never thought it would happen again. Yet, here he was watching his son sleep. How things have changed.

"Sleep well, Sam," he whispered, turning and walking back toward his wife's room. "My son."


	9. The Wrong Number

**Wrong Number?**

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

Grace came back from retrieving the mail, a letter open and her eyes scanning it as she closed the front door. She set the rest of the mail down on the wooden table in the foyer and turned into the living room.

"What's that?" Rigsby asked, looking up from the computer and pointing to the piece of paper.

"This," Van Pelt said, "is a wedding invitation. You'll never guess from who."

Rigsby's face screwed up in a thinking pose, then shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.

"Jane and Lisbon," she snorted, watching Rigsby rise and take the invitation from her and scan it for himself.

"Holy shit," he laughed. "It actually happened. About time!"

"That's what I thought," Grace agreed. "We have to call her and congratulate her, Wayne."

"Yeah, yeah!" he said, reaching over on the desk and giving her the cordless. "Call!"

Van Pelt dialed Lisbon's number and let it ring. On the fifth ring, someone picked up, but it wasn't Lisbon.

"Uh," Van Pelt said, clearly confused. "Sorry. Wrong number."

She was just about to hang up when she realized she recognized that voice. "Jane? Is that you?"

The smug smile on Rigsby's face only made Van Pelt turn redder.

"I didn't realize you had her cell phone," Van Pelt told him. She waited a moment, and then: "Oh. Oh. I see, yes, please put her on."

_They are living together!_ she mouthed to Rigsby, surprise falling on her features.

"You sure that's all they are doing?" Rigsby laughed, watching his wife give him a reproachful look. "They're getting married, Grace. It's not a taboo to live together, you know."

She knew that. She just didn't think they would live together until they were married. Hell, it took years just for them to see what everyone else saw. He sounded like he was sleeping, too, which gave her the impression she was beside him in bed. Perhaps they weren't even sleeping…

Lisbon finally came to the phone, and Grace congratulated her and Jane, and told her they would be attending the wedding in 6 months time.

"Tell…" Van Pelt trailed off, thinking it might overstep. "Tell Jane we said congrats," she finally said. "I didn't realize you were living together."

Van Pelt laughed at Lisbon's reply and hung up. _Hell has frozen over_, she thought. Jane and Lisbon finally got together, are living under the same roof, sleeping in the same bed and getting married.

She turned to Wayne and watched as his hand shot out in front of him.

"Pay up!"

She shook her head, dug in her pocket, and put a 20 on his palm.

"Thank you," he said, laughing. "I win the bet."

"Not fair," she told him. "Cho bet they wouldn't, either."

"Yeah, but Cho is a clueless bastard," Rigsby said. "I love that guy."

Grace stuck the invite back in the envelope and went to put the date on the calendar, still mumbling about having to pay up.


	10. First Date

**Clever That Saying Pretty Things**

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

There was a slight chill in the air as he pulled out her chair for her and waited for her to sit before taking his own chair across from her. The lights were dim in the wide, open Il Tavolo Bianco's balcony, situated out back of the restaurant. There were low hums of people talking and soft music, but he only heard and saw her.

"I thought we could have our first official date together here," Jane told her, grabbing the menu from the waiter and watching as Lisbon looked over hers.

"Seems right," she smiled.

They had come back from Florida just a few days ago, and immediately, they decided to move forward to the next step, which was dinner. There had been no pressure to do so, but the emotional stress of hiding their feelings for one another for so long had to be met with something…anything that gave them a push.

"Last time we were here," Jane told her, "I asked you what a girl wanted to hear."

"I remember," she assured him.

There was no taunting behind the words, simply a fact that she had never forgotten the moment, and wouldn't for the foreseeable future. It was the moment when she knew he would never tell her how he felt. This was the moment she decided her decision to accept Pike's move proposal was right.

But that was history. This was her future. Jane had poured out his heart to her on her flight, and she had been relieved. She was sitting across from him, in a dress, and it wasn't case related; it was personal-relationship related.

"Well," he put the menu down and gazed at her. "I think I owe you the truth, now that I know what you want to hear."

"I think you're very clever at saying pretty words at the right time," Lisbon told him, unable to hide her smile.

"It's what I get paid the big bucks for," he joked, leaning over to capture her hand in his. "Timing is everything, isn't it?"

"I suppose so," she agreed. "So tell me this truth, Patrick. We've only waited years for it."

It was not meant to be harsh, and Jane did not take it as such. He knew she was referring to the time it took for him to pluck up everything he had to confess his love.

"I owe you everything I am about to say, Teresa." He squeezed her fingers. "All of it."

She didn't say anything, she just waited. Getting it out was easier than being interrupted and having to pick back up where you left off. It was like it was just the two of them in the whole place. They only saw each other, and everything seemed to slow down around them.

"You saved me, you know. From myself…from…from whatever would have happened to me." He was dead serious, his voice inserting no hint of amusement. "I want you to know that when you sat here before with me, that I loved you then, too," he told her.

"I know that now," she replied. "That's all I wanted to hear you say for a long time."

"I'm sorry it took so long to tell you. I promise it won't happen again, for the rest of our lives."

"Pretty words, Jane," she laughed. "At the right time."


	11. The Trick

**Jane's Trick**

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

Jane looked over in the sunlit passenger seat as he drove on through the afternoon sun toward a case location a few miles away. He watched Lisbon's hair blow through the open window, her bangs snapping back and forth across her forehead.

"You seem distracted," said Jane, glancing back at the road in front of him and then back to Lisbon. "Anything on your mind, Teresa?"

She turned her head, pulling a strand of hair from her mouth and shook her head. There was nothing on her mind, and that was the problem. She was very bored, and sitting in a car with Jane wasn't exactly the treatment for boredom. She loved him, but he was a plain man with not much to say.

"That's just it," she explained. "I'm bored. You aren't very good company."

Jane laughed and shook his head. "Sure, I am," he replied.

"Jane, we have driven this same stretch of highway for over a half hour, and the only thing you have said to me was asking what exit to take."

He was silent for a few moments. Lisbon watched as his brows furrowed, his eyes keeping on the road. She was about to give up on anything that would cure her boredom when he spoke.

"I could teach you how to tap into your memory palace," he offered, clearing his throat. "I know it's not particularly exciting, but it will keep you occupied until we get there."

"What? You want to teach me how to use a memory palace?" she chuckled, pressing another strand of hair from her face. "Sure...why not?"

Jane smiled as he turned to her, his teeth a perfect display across his features. He had meant to teach her how to tap into her own memory palace, but they just hadn't had time. Now that they were a couple, it was hard to find time to themselves, and when they did have time to only them, they didn't talk much. It was more actions spoke more than words at 2:45 A.M., when they called you for a case.

"Good," he told her. "Okay, first, I want you to think of your favorite place in the world. One you know the ins and outs of."

Lisbon exhaled and ticked her head as if she were thinking. The sound of Jane's laughter made her look straight at him, her chin falling to her chest as she rolled her eyes.

"Close your eyes, Teresa," he told her. "Visualizing it for the first time is easier. Once you learn your way around, you can see it with your eyes open."

She sighed but closed her eyes anyway. She thought of the CBI, its many corridors and rooms. She thought of the way it smelled and the many hours she spent in it. It was her favorite place, even if it was long gone and states between her.

"Alright, got it," Lisbon said, resting against the headrest of her seat. "It's the CBI building."

Somehow, Jane knew she would pick it. He knew she knew that place like the back of her hand, and he thought it would he perfect for the memory palace.

"Okay," said Jane. "I want you to imagine yourself walking all through the building, from top to bottom, remembering items as you go."

Lisbon, in her memory palace, envisioned herself walking from the garage, taking the elevator. One the first floor, she took in the name plates, telling which floor held what. She committed that, and walked on into the stairs to the first floor. Here, she walked from room to room, peering in, looking at the empty desks and chairs. She settled on remembering the water fountain at the end of the hall, next to the stairs that led to the second floor.

"Remember the route you are taking," Jane said, reverberating in her memory palace. "Remember the things you see along the way."

Lisbon reached the second floor, passing the doors and rooms until she came to her own old office. It was empty now, but sitting on the floor in the center of the room was a picture of her dog that she always had on her desk. She didn't pick it up, instead deciding to move on to the bullpen.

"It's empty," she said aloud. "The whole building is empty except for chairs and desks."

"It's okay," Jane told her. "You don't put things in the palace you don't want. Keep going."

Lisbon passed the empty bullpen and made her way up to the roof, where Jane had spent many of his days working on the Red John case. She turned around and around in the room. It, too, was empty.

"Can we have people in the memory palace?" she asked him.

"Yes, if you want," he told her. "It's all about what you make it, Teresa."

Lisbon didn't respond, she only heard a noise outside on the roof's exterior. She walked to the door and flung it open, where she could see Jane, standing there, sipping a cup of tea. This was her last item she wanted to remember, she knew that.

"What now?" she asked, clenching her eyes shut tighter.

"Did you walk all through the building?"

"Yes," she replied.

"Alright," he said. "You created your memory palace, but now you have to use it."

"Go on."

"Well, say you need to store information in your memory palace," he went on. "You can place things at the markers you remembered to recall them at any time."

Lisbon chuckled and opened one eye, peering at Jane skeptically. "I should have seen that coming."

"Fine, Grumpy," he told her. "Let's test it. What did you ever have trouble remembering before? Anything?"

"The types of depositions?" she said, making it sound more like a question than answer.

"Ok, well, that will do, I guess," he answered. "Do you remember the order?"

"I...I think so."

"Okay, now, I want you to go through your memory palace again, this time, putting an object down at the markers you remembered, something that reminds you of each kind of deposition."

Lisbon closed her eye and began her ascent once more through the CBI memory palace. When she got to the name plates, she put a telescope in front of them to make her remember "discovery deposition". She walked back up the stairs to the first floor, where she saw the water fountain she committed, and placed a gavel in it to remind her of "trial deposition", which was the second kind. She moved on, winding up the stairs to her office, locating the picture of her dog on the bare floor. She placed a VHS tape on the picture to remind her of "video deposition". Finally, she trekked the last place, going out the door that led to the balcony on the roof, where Jane was still mindlessly drinking his tea. She gave Jane a typewriter beside him, to remind her of "typed depositions".

"I did it," she said, shrugging. "What now?"

"Now you start climbing your palace again, reciting the types of depositions by the items you placed. No matter how many times you visit it, or add information to it, you will remember this particular bit should you need it. Try it."

She walked the length of the palace, and just as Jane had said, she remembered all 4 types of depositions. Each object she placed recalling back to one of the 4.

"Neat trick," she told him, opening her eyes finally. "I could have used that back when I was in training."

"Sorry, I'm late," he smiled. "But it's a wonderful tool."

"What's in your palace now that Red John is gone?" she asked quietly.

"My family is in some of them," he told her. "The memories."

"That's all?"

He was silent a few moments before he answered.

"No," he told her, winking. "I think about 5 rooms dedicated to you. I would let you in, but I haven't really cleaned the place in a while..."

Lisbon laughed, her boredom long forgotten and the miles all but eaten up. On the way back, maybe she'd teach him a trick or two. She thought she had a few to spare...


End file.
